


The Ruffian

by freedomatsea



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/M, Victorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-07 18:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freedomatsea/pseuds/freedomatsea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Step back in time to the year of 1840; Victoria has been Queen for three years, London's industry is booming, diseases are rampant, the poor are dying in the street and the crime rate is on the rise. Within the society of London a tale unfolds that involves industry, the poor, the wealthy, the corrupt, the innocent, the guilty - all brought together by one human instinct that not even past deeds can hold back. And that is love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_March 1840,_

_There is no happy ending for me. Choices that were made nearly twelve years ago have ruined my chances at finding my own little happy niche in the world and I suppose I am more than used to it at this point. I try my best to push away those memories, but I find it hard to forget so soon after my mother’s departure back to the Brooke. She was fortunate enough to be able to steal away for a while and come and visit me here, much to her dismay I fear. She has never seemed comfortable here in the city and while I’m thankful to see her once and a very seldom while, she is never happy when she comes. Much of our discourse was far too telling to place down on paper, so, dear reader, I am afraid that you will have to piece together my past on your own._

_What I can, however, disclose to you is that I have been residing in London for close to those twelve years aforementioned, with my godmother the Widow Lucas and her daughter Ruby, who stays with us purely out of convenience as her husband currently makes a stay in a debtors prison for rather grievous gambling debts. I was only sixteen when circumstances at home – The Brooke, my family’s estate in Yorkshire – called me to stay here in London, which is now regrettably more home than Yorkshire ever was. Life has been rather monotonous, in part because my sixteenth year saw difficulties that shaped my present, but there was a glimmer of hope. A glimmer that-. Well, I suppose it would be a disservice to you if I did not, in part, describe to you what occurred the evening of my birthday, October 22 nd 1839\. _

* * *

“We haven’t the time to waste Miss Emma,” Widow Lucas warned, invading my quiet place of solitude in the drawing room, where I sat curled in the window, watching people pass by below. The day was wearing down into a bleak Saturday afternoon and I had little interest in partaking in whatever the Widow and her daughter had planned for me today. I had seven and twenty birthdays and not a single one had meant anything to me, especially in more recent years when they had been a reminder that I was alone and always would be.

I rose from the window seat, brows furrowed together, “Perhaps you and Ruby should go without me. I hardly find that I’ll be an agreeable today.”

“But it is a day to celebrate, my dear,” The elder woman cupped my cheeks in her hands, smiling at me, “I’d scarcely think that your parents would like to heart that their daughter spent her birthday sitting in a window seat, watching London pass by.”

I shook my head, shrugging away from her touch, “I fear that life has already passed me by and the reasons behind that are mine and mine alone. Honestly, do you think that the Nolans desire their spinster niece to come to their gala tonight? No. There are far too many questions that surround me and there always have been and always will be. I’m not keen to go out on another birthday and hear the whispers of rumors behind my back. I’m eight and twenty today, far too old to be attending society as if I were eighteen again.”

The widow canted her head, hands firmly grasped together in front of her, “And what if I said I had a letter from you mother requesting that you enjoy today?”

I laughed at that, “Then I would say give me evidence of this letter, let me read it for myself.”

“Ah,” The widow shifted on her feet, eyes downcast as she chuckled, “But you see Ruby believed it be something for the fire.”

“Of course,” I shook my head with a smile that was a genuine as I could summon, which was admittedly not much of a smile. “Are you going to spend the rest of the afternoon convincing me to attend tonight?”

“Yes, if I must.” She assured me, with that spark of mischief in her eyes, “You _will_ come tonight Emma.”

“There is _nothing_ there for me,” I protested, retreating to the armchair by the fire, “Every birthday it is the same. My distant relations throw a ball, for _their_ son, I attend, keeping quiet that my own birth was shared by his. I stand, lonesome in a corner, watching others dance to their heart’s content. My card has at least one dance assigned to it, if I’m lucky.” My heart sank as I recalled the birthdays past, that sullied any hopes of awaking cheerful to be given another year. “Tonight will be no different.”

“With that attitude of course it will be no different.” Her hands were on her hips now, that stern motherly expression on her face as she glared at me, “Miss Emma Swan, you may think yourself ineligible for marriage at this age, but that does not mean that there will not be a gentleman that will find you quite desirable. Even I have my fair share of suitors – even at this age.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it promptly, turning my gaze to the fire as I tried to gather the correct words to say. “My ineligibility does not lay in the fact that I find myself to be unwanted by men, but that there must be some regulated distance between me and any true attachments made. I’ve turned down my fair share of men,” My voice faltered; because that was not quite the truth, though the widow would never know that. I had, as far as she knew, turned down two offers of marriage, but in truth of the two who had inquired, they had learned quite soon after of my past and vanished from my future.

“You’re such a morose child.” She retorted harshly, unwavering in her position, “You have a fine new dress to wear tonight, we leave promptly at five. No is not an answer, if you desire to stay in my good graces.” Widow Lucas gave a bow of her head before she quit the room, leaving me to my own devices once more.

I pressed my lips together, staving off the tremble that shook the bottom, hands clasped together and head bowed. I didn’t believe, entirely, in the presence of a God above, both like and unlike many who dwelt in the overcrowded and filthy city. I had been through enough to know that there was _something_ that guided my ill-fated future, but I didn’t believe enough to think that He  - it, whomever it was, truly cared what pitiful pleas I had prepared for them to hear. But, it was my birthday, I deserved one little wish today. A vain wish, to not be alone this year. Because, despite how gracious and typically delightful the Lucas’ were, they did not feel that void that I felt beneath my breast.

* * *

“Ah,” I cringed as my uncle approached me, arms outstretched and that sickeningly false smile curving up beneath his twisted mustache that made him seem like the villain of a Radcliffe novel. “It is a pleasure to see you tonight dear niece.” He took my hands, brought them up to his lips, before releasing them and turning his attention to my companion.

“Good evening Sir Nolan,” Ruby’s voice was as hallow as I felt, brushing off my uncle’s overzealous attention by reminding him, gently, that Peter was set to come out of debtors prison very soon.

I excused myself from their company, making my way through the crowd to the corner I had grown so familiar with over the years. It was the optimal spot to see and not be seen. The grouping of guests had not changed drastically from year to year, distant relations of mine that were all well too aware of some dark mark on my past and were wary to associate with me. I would be wary to associate with myself as well, but one cannot rid themselves of their own person.

“And why is the spinster niece of Sir James Nolan making herself into a panel of flocked wallpaper?” I turned around to see who the speaker was – a past suitor, Augustus Booth.

“Mister Booth,” I bowed my head as a curtsied, keeping my manners despite how tense his presence had made me. I gave the smallest of laughs and brushed off his harsh comment, “I fear that the story weather has not been kind to me.”

He nodded and I doubt he believed my lie, any more than I believed he was speaking to me out of kindness and not out of bitter jest, “Has time treated you well since our last meeting?”

I gave a small sigh, “It has been life, neither one to treat me well or worse, the lines between the two have blended together.”

Booth tucked his hands behind his back, standing taller, “A fitting answer, I find. Have you word from your relations as of late?”

“None,” I shifted anxiously, feeling color tint my cheeks – color of frustration, not passion. “I’m sure you’re well aware why letters between myself and my parents are so scarce.”

“I’m well aware of _many_ details of your life,” His smile was absolutely sickening, “The Countess is my benefactor now, of course.” Those words made my skin crawl, my stomach twist in knots, scrutinized beneath his gaze.

“I did inform you years ago that she had means to inform any potential suitor of my history,” My lashes fluttered against my cheeks, trying to prevent tears from falling from my eyes. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Mister Booth caught my arm, eyes meeting mine. “I met him.”

I forced a smile, jerking my arm from his hold, “She is your benefactor after all.” He muttered in response, winding my way through the crowd to put distance between myself and the writer.

My heart was pounding in my chest, my breath caught in my throat as I slipped from the grand hall, out onto the patio, desperate for the reprieve that the cool evening air would bring. It was utterly unfair that the Countess would go to such lengths to insure that my life would never happy again. Even from Yorkshire it was as if her eyes were constantly following me, forcing me to pay penance for some long contrived hatred between her and my mother. I could have gone my entire life had I not made one tiny blunder, which gave her hold over my family.

I looked over my head at the sound of the door opening, quite surprised to find a strange of this society striding out onto the patio, unaware that I stood, concealed in the shadows. I had never seen him before, because I was certain I would remember a man who appeared as he did. He was out of sorts with the guests he’d just quit from, his garments a little warn, not quite fitting for his form. Thick black hair fell haphazardly over his brow, nearly shielding the eyes that seemed to reflect the light from the moon above.

“Excuse me,” I whispered, making my presence known, much to the surprise of the gentleman. “You must forgive me; I wasn’t intentionally concealing myself from you.”

“No need to apologize,” He replied, smiling at me with warmth that made my breath hitch in my throat. “Did you find that gaggle of guests too insufferable to tolerate as well?”

I laughed at that comment, “You perfectly describe the group I’ve spent years trying to name appropriately.”

The stranger turned to face me, his eyes flickering over my face. My heart fluttered in a way so very different from the flutter of aggravation that had brought me to the patio. He was something entirely different – and Irish. “Are you a business partner of Sir Nolan?”

“Oh, far from that,” He shook his head, holding my gaze, “And would a good lass as you be one to oust a man such as I?”

“Well,” I started with a cant of my head, “It would depend entirely on what sort of man you were.” My tone was entirely familiar, something that I scarcely could even summon with Ruby, who I spent nearly every waking moment alongside. I was not sure what it was that this man stirred in me, but it was not off putting.

He chuckled, “What strangers will tell one another beneath the pale moonlight,” He stated wistfully, pressing his palms against the stone banister, “I truly hate this stuffy, self-righteous society.” His eyes met mine again, “Chiefly because I have had so little in my life.”

“Ah,” I said simply, looking him over again, “You’re a ruffian then?”

“I’d prefer to be called by name, but if you desire to place me neatly into a category, then yes. A ruffian I am.”

“That’s not what I desired to do,” I corrected, shaking my head, “I would rather refer to you by name, so that one day I can place pen to paper and refer to you as something rather the dark haired ruffian on the patio.”

“Lucky you,” He said with an edge of bitterness in his tone, “Well, for the sake of your epistle, it’s Killian Jones.”

I started to curtsey, but he made no move to return the civility so I simply stated my own name, “Emma Swan, if you please.” Eyes met again, “If being a ruffian was your only secret I’m not impressed.”

Killian shook his head with a quiet laugh, “Yes, well, perhaps divulging my secrets to you would be a blunder. What if you were to step inside that hall, announce to the guests that Killian Jones, a ruffian, beneath a false name – oh I didn’t mention that did I? – was an uninvited member of the gathering?”

“Well, that would be truly foolish of me,” I gave him a look, chin tilted upwards, “Because I am well aware that many keep secret lives locked away within their chest. No one wants their pasts to be brought forward before a crowd, unless their insane.”

“So the lady keeps her own secrets as well,” He smirked at me, at me and I took a step backwards.

“Have we not _all_ secrets?”

Again he laughed, though unlike many it was not laughing at me for my direct bluntness, but rather venerating my gumption, “You are not quite alike to the ladies inside, are you? You’re not so willingly ignorant to the lives of others.”

“You read quite a lot from me in such a short period of time,” I stated, hands clasped behind my back, “Especially for someone who scoffed at the mention of literature.”

“I scoffed at the mention of writing, which I am none too fond of,” He pursed his lips, arching a brow at me, “Though reading and writing are nigh close to one in the same, I can write a little and read even less.”

“As ruffians do.” I said, with a teasing smirk.

“Ah, yes, the ruffian thing.” Killian chuckled, shaking his head with a grin, “Yes well, I suppose now that that has been revealed, you’ll forever spot a man like me and instantly assume that he is a ruffian.”

“Are you to tell me that I shall walk onto the streets of Southwark tomorrow and spy a ruffian with exact same appearance as you?” I questioned, brows raised high, “Because I think I would be quite impressed if there is more than one of _you_.”

“Aren’t you vivacious,” He retorted, hands behind his back as he stepped towards me, looking me up and down, “How does your dance card look?”

I flustered under his gaze, “As void as the sky is of stars tonight.”

“I’ll have you know there is one star above that I spotted, so you’re in luck if that’s how your dance card appears.” Killian offered his arm to me, “Come, I hear the orchestra striking up the next turn.”

Tomorrow I was going to have to seriously return to today, looking through the banter that we had shared and attempt to pick out the exact moment that I found someone with a spirit so kindred to mine that all pretenses that society had bred into me had been completely forgotten. 


	2. Chapter Two

Today I set down to pen out the occasion of last night – my birthday and the ball my Uncle James held for his son. I recall, all too well, that I made a wish that I would not spend the whole evening alone, as was my sad custom of years past at the same gala, and the wish came true. In part, I suppose, as I was alone for a brief time before Killian Jones arrived on the scene. Now, I know, a ruffian is not the sort of association I should wish to make. It is clear by my dress that I am a woman of status, in part, of course baring that I should ever – no, again, there is some that should be disclosed in ink and paper and other words that should be left for words alone. But, nevertheless, it should not come to a surprise that by my fashions Mister Jones should know my station in life and his attention could have been to thieve from me some item of value.

Which he did, I shall admit. He stole from me something that I cherish very little about. My heart. A foolish, fluttery, beast beneath my breast. I swear today that it might beat for him and him alone. It has, in the past, been a criminal to my life and my situation. I'm wary to allow its foolish flutters to affect me in this way. But, he is different. There is something so akin betwixt us that I fear not seeking to find the cause of this. But, as my uncle kindly pointed out, he is a wolf in sheep's clothes.

"Who was he?" Ruby questioned with a smirk, her eyes meeting mine with a teasing glint.

I had only just opened my mouth to speak when my uncle spoke, cutting off my answer, "He, is a man who seeks to deceive. I would say that you should turn away from a man such as that, Emma."

Never once had I sought my uncle's guidance, neither as a figure of paternal guidance or for the simplest of inquiries in life. He was not, as I perceived, a man of good moral standing nor intelligent offerings on how the true should conduct their behavior. "Well, Uncle," I started simply, folding my hands behind my back, "I found him to be perfect company to hold."

He scoffed, "So easily led by a pleasant face and decent airs, it's no wonder that you fell so far so young." His callous words struck me hard and I quickly excused myself from his company, making my way across the ballroom. It wasn't so much that the reminder of what had occurred was once again brought to my attention, but it was that he, of all people, felt the need to harass me on my current station in life.

I knew of his history, he had nothing to say of it. He had a sordid past, which of course was excusable because he was a man and I was a woman. A fallen woman was always one to be frowned upon, while a man's crimes were praised as masculine pursuits.

"And where do you think that you're going?" Ruby caught my arm as I started into the passageway, "You're not trying to escape the festivities so soon are you?"

My gaze fell to the floor, "I've never felt entirely welcome amongst my extended family and furthermore that feeling was affirmed just now." I shook my head, feeling that swell of anger rising in my chest, "He has no place to attempt to reprimand me for simply dancing with one lone gentleman."

"He doesn't," She canted her head, giving me a warm smile, "But you shouldn't let him ruin the entirety of your night. The gentleman you danced with was quite handsome, that should make up for your uncle's callousness."

A blush blossomed on my cheeks and I laughed, "Wasn't he though? Ruffian, or not, he was something else." I took Ruby's hand in mine, "Come, let us seek out the library. Perhaps a good fairy tale will calm my nerves."

"Do you honestly believe that your ogre of an uncle would have tales of fantasy? I'm sure he'd have the collection of Oliver Twist and he would venerate Syke's as an idol to emulate."

I could only laugh at Ruby's statement, knowing all too well that my uncle would indeed take pleasure in the actions of Sikes; the harshness he showed towards Oliver, the murder of Nancy – it was all to realistic when you knew the sort of man he was. "I have no doubts of that."

I had only pushed open the door to the library a few inches when I stopped, pressing my finger to my lips as I looked to Ruby, all too interested in the voices I heard with in.

"Who?" Ruby mouthed silently, arching a brow at my sudden spying. It was rude, yes, to invade in a private conversation without revealing my unseen presence, but I must confess if you heard the undeniable voice of the man you had just danced with intermingled with that of another gentleman you knew – you would listen too.

"Lord Graham and the Ruffian." I whispered, before allowing silence to fall between us as I strained to listen to their voices over the sounds from the ballroom. It was hard to hear their discourse, I could only make out bits and pieces of the conversation and from that I was uncertain that I would be able to understand it without jumping to a drastic conclusion.

But, one thing that I knew for certain was the fact that my surname had been mentioned and it seemed to be uttered in connection to the Countess. A cold shiver ran down my spine, the blood rushing from my head, making the world seem to spin and the sounds bleed out of existence. "Ru-" I started, before I felt the cool shock of the wooden door against my cheek and then nothing.

I coughed and sputtered, spurred back to life by the scent of a snuff box beneath my nose. My hand went to my head, nursing the pain that I found there. "Wh- What happened?" I started, my eyes flying open as I looked around the room – the library.

"Well," Started Lord Graham, with a polite smile on his face as he knelt beside the sofa, giving a once over with surprising sympathy in it. "It would seem, as your friend informed me, that you were coming to explore the library when you suddenly keeled over - without a cause. How is your head?"

"I'll survive," I replied as I sat up slowly, my gaze flickering to my Ruffian. "Hello again, I'd expected that you had fled from here the moment that my Uncle began-"

His lips pressed together thin and he gave a curt shake of his head, "Well, there is little I can say against your fine uncle, he was gracious enough to allow me the privilege to be here tonight. I couldn't retire from the party without first sharing a dance with the lass whose birthday is today as well."

Emma's brows knit together in confusion, his words not matching up with the words that he'd spoken on the patio. "Yes, of course." I'm mumbled weakly, glancing at Sir Graham long enough to see him watching Killian, for what I could only assume were signs of deceit. "I shall thank you again, sir, for being my one dance of the night." I met his eyes, held his gaze before I questioned them both further, "How is it that you two know of one another?"

"The world is small, Miss Swan," Graham said with curious cant of his head as he looked down at me, "I'm attending matters for the Countess." He smirked, almost cruelly, when I tensed at the mention of her. "And while on the topic of the Countess, I am afraid I must depart immediately. The carriage ride to Yorkshire will be exhausting enough as is."

He gave a quick bow to the party before he excused himself from the library, letting the door shut behind him quietly.

Killian paced, hands behind his back, brows coming together in worry, teeth latched to his bottom lip, chewing anxiously. All of which were terrible habits that many would refrain from partaking or allowing, but I was bored of the rigidness of society, which was partially why the ruffian had such an appeal to me.

"Ruby, could you excuse us?"

"I'll be out in the passage if you need me," Ruby said calmly, giving me a hesitant smile before retiring from the room

Silence fell, no words were spoken aloud, but certainly my mind was jumbled with thoughts and feelings and fears. His own bad habit seemed to spread to me as I bit down on my bottom lip and looked down to my hands in my lap. I wouldn't know anything until I questioned him, but how does one broach these subjects? Why were you speaking to a man that works for the Countess? Why did you lie to him? Why were you discussing me and the Countess in the same breath? Why?

"Miss Swan, I-" He stopped, unable to finish his sentence as our eyes met. I was certain that he could see that I was upset; my eyes never could conceal my emotions.

"I'm used to it," I stated bluntly, shaking my head in disappointment. "As pitiful as it may seem, none of this is foreign to me." Unsteadily I rose to my feet, fingers going to be head where it throbbed from hitting the door or the floor. "Please, spare me the humiliation for once, it's the least that you can do for me."

I started to walk towards the door, but he caught my elbow, turning me back around to face him. "Whatever you believe to know, I must inform you that you are wrong." Killian met my eyes, his blue eyes almost too much for me to focus on. "I have met, on one occasion, Sir Graham, prior to tonight. You must understand that I revealed to you intimate secrets of who I am, dare I say ones that could result in… unsavory ends."

I sucked in a sharp breath, eyes flickering to the floor. "I hope I didn't plant a seed of doubt in Sir Graham's mind as to who you are." I shook my head, "My uncle already knows that you are not as the rest of us."

"Well, that is because of my garments." He brushed his hands over his jacket, "I am not as pristine as the other men here tonight." Killian looked down at me, frowning, "He didn't tell me much of your history, no more than I knew prior."

I turned away then, moving to the bookcase, unwilling to look at him further. "Well, then I understand if you desire to never see me again." I plucked a book from the shelf. "You must know enough to feel comfortable alone in this room with me. You hardly blinked an eye when I asked Ruby to leave and it very improper to be in a room alone with a lady.

Killian stared at me in confusion, "I surely did not know of such practices. I've worked alongside women my whole life; I've never been accustomed to treating them differently than any man."

"Your whole life?" I questioned, turning to look at him.

He nodded, placing his hands behind his back as he stepped towards me, "Aye, my family and I were in debtor's prison from a very young age, perhaps seven or eight. I was put to work right alongside young girls, my age." He shrugged, shaking his head, "I see no reason why the 'gentler sex' should be kept from male society. I'd say we're both old enough to conduct ourselves appropriately."

I couldn't help but laugh, "Well, as a self-professed spinster, I'll agree with you there." I studied him for a quiet moment, as I had out on the patio, taking in the curves and angles of his face, the way his thick black lashes brushed his cheeks when he blinked. Perhaps, given a different life or time, circumstances would have been different. But, those youthful hopes were gone now, for me at least. "My parents owned a mill," I started with a small smile, "I could never understand why they could work side by side, but a lady such as I was forced to reside inside the house."

"Ah," Killian chuckled, "That is simply because you were a fine lady of wealth, it would have been so ill conceived to see you gallivanting about with the equivalent of swine."

I pursed my lips, looking up at him when he stepped closer, "Yes, but I think my greatest follies came from being kept locked away safe from others." His fingers brushed my temple and I flinched, "Killian…"

"There was a drop of blood," He explained, showing the drop of red on his thumb, "That's what you get for spying-"

"I did nothing of the sort!" I flustered, giving him an incredulous look, "You presume to know my actions and you are very wrong."

"Thou doth protest too much." He teased, stepping away from me with a charming smile and a mocking bow, "Now, m'lady, I must escape this gala before too many know that I am a simple ruffian. I should have known better than to wear the clothes of a lout I found drunk at a tavern." He laughed - a clear, happy sound that made me grin. "Until we meet by chance again."

"Until then ruffian."

"Looks can be deceiving," Killian retorted as he backed towards the door, "I could be a prince of foreign land, forced into a pitiful life for the crimes of my family! Or better yet, perhaps I'm spy from another realm, come to whisk away a beautiful princess in distress." He grabbed a book from the bookshelf as he passed it, glancing at the spine of the book before he tossed it to me.

"Rapunzel?" I ran my fingers over the spine of the book, looking up to see him already gone. He was curious man, one that I had yet – in such a short time – to understand. But I knew for certain he had caught my attention in a way that none ever had.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes a slight POV shift, not something that had been originally planned, but I do believe that since Killian is “the ruffian” after all, he deserves to take the lead.

The tavern was dimly lit, my eyes adjusting to the flickering candlelight as I stepped inside, surveying the scene before me. Women throwing themselves at worn out workmen, sailors fresh from sea, drowning away in their longing for a woman they left at another port. The worst of the worst that London had to offer, pocketing and stealing whatever wasn’t nailed down to the table.

Though I was one to talk. My fingers itching as I snatched up a loose money pouch, left dangling from the belt of a drunken sailor who was slumped over a table. It was hardly worth stealing, a few halfpennies that would buy a single pint. Which was certainly needed on a night like tonight.

I grabbed up the pewter mug as it was sat on the bar before me, clutching it in my hand as I made my way to the back of the tavern. My lips were pressed thin as I spotted the reason for my visit to the dingy establishment. “This place certainly isn’t Yorkshire, is it?” A hollow laugh escaped my lips as I sank on to the bench, eyes trained on the ale in my mug.

The woman pushed back the hood that concealed her identity, I could feel her eyes on me and I cringed. I hated what my life had become, but in all honesty it was nothing more than what I had always known. I’d made mistakes, terrible ones, and I still sought to avenge the crimes that had been done because of it. I had never found reason to play the rules, until the year that I broke many and someone I cared for paid the price for my folly.

“It may not be what I am used to, but I’m certain this is the sort of place you spend your down time,” I glanced up to see her sneer, a forced smile on my lips in response.

“I’ve not come to be judged for my life, I’ve plenty of time to do that myself. What do you want?”

The Countess leaned back against the booth, her eyes alight with something sinister, “Lord Graham has informed me of a sort of… friendship formed between you and a certain woman-” My mind flickered instantly to the Swan girl, but allowed no betrayal of emotion on my face, “You know my designs for her, I want you to help me destroy her – and for your aid I’ll ruin the Count.”

My eyes fluttered and I quickly downed a swig of ale, hoping that the liquor would numb the frustration that hummed in my mind. “You’ve promised to ruin him before and you abandoned it for higher causes.” I snapped, brows furrowing together. “Swan girl seems ruined enough, if I might add. At the gala scarcely a single person, aside from her friends and relations, paid her mind. For a lady of wealth I find that quite odd.”

“Well,” She sneered, tapping the rim of her own mug of ale, “Why does a handsome man like you earn a living by doing deeds for the rich in a pursuit of avenging a lost love?”

I narrowed my eyes at her, “I shan’t talk of _her_ with you. _Her_ death is not something to trivialize for the sake of you proving some point to me.” I sat back against the chair, crossing my arms across my chest. “If you intend to compare my past with hers, I think they won’t compare. A lady of Yorkshire and a rat from a debtors prison having nothing akin between them.”

“Ah,” She purred out, a coy smirk on her lips as she sipped her ale, “But you’re from Yorkshire as well,” My eyes widened at her words, “ _Killian_ , I know all of your past.”

“You know the Count, that’s why,” I gritted out, bristling at the look she gave me. “Listen,” I leaned forward, dropping my voice, “I’ll do what you want. But, promise me that this will bring an end to the Count. _Finally_.”

“Oh, it will,” She arched a brow, leaning back and returning the cloak over her head, “End Miss Swan and I will end the Count.”

“Thank you,” I rose to my feet, giving a short bow, chugging down the last of my ale before excusing myself. My heart ached at the thought of what I was now assigned to do, but _ten years_ of trying to make the Count pay for his crime outweighed whatever connection I had found between myself and Miss Swan. She had been a bright spot in the darkness I had lived in for so long, but even the smallest star couldn’t cast illumination over the entire void that I dwelt in. I couldn’t move on until the Count met an end and it seemed that to do so, would also mean bringing down Swan, a price that had to be paid.

* * *

“There’s a letter for you.”

My attention peaked at that, turning round in my seat to face my maid, “A letter for _me_?” My fingers trembled anxiously as she placed the neatly creased parchment into my hands. I turned it over to see the name scrawled neatly on the front. I could hardly read, but I could enough so that I could make out most words done in a legible hand. I had read several books, though it took weeks to finish them, when others could devour them in days.

“Miss Swan.” My maid said with a small smile, pointing to the front of the letter, “Do you need me to read it for you?”

“No,” I said sharply, “I’ll do it myself.” I nodded towards the door, wanting her to leave me be. I broke the seal of the letter, opening it and scanning it first, before reading it.

_Ruffian,_

_I know I was perhaps quite cross with you when last we met. You must forgive me, I was shaken from the collapse and confused by your connections with Lord Graham. I’m sure, as I said then, you know something of my past and you might even understand why you knowing them made me so wary of you. But, please forgive me. Your presence at the ball, for whatever reason it may have been, granted my one wish for my birthday. Not to be alone the whole night. So this epistle is here to thank you for that and to seek your forgiveness. As you might have noticed since I’ve referred to that several times now. I’ve enclosed the address of the Lucas’, the family that I live with. I would find it quite agreeable if you could perhaps visit soon, as forward as that might be. You yourself said you despised that women and men are treated differently and I am writing on that account. I have been treated differently my whole life and it was nice to feel something akin to normal for once. I’ve rambled on long enough, I again seek your forgiveness for my behavior, and would also care to say that the book you imparted to me was quite good._

_Miss Swan_

I scanned the letter over numerous times before all of her words finally sank in. The realization of what I had agreed to do for the Countess washed over me on my third look over the letter and I wished to crumple the piece of parchment and feign ignorance. But, I could not. For some foolish reason, I found myself compelled to keep the letter, close to my heart, in the breast pocket where the last image of _her_ remained.

“I’m going out.” I called to my maid, wherever she may be in my small place, before I departed out the door and into the sooty London street. I straightened my worn vest, running a hand through my disheveled hair. I played no pretenses when there wasn’t a reason to. Worn garments and a worn spirit, I suppose. I was nothing more than a hired man, set on one goal, and apparently unwilling to stop the fight for anything. Or anyone.

“Miss Swan,” I gaped slightly as she stepped out of a carriage just before me, I glanced towards the building she was about to enter – a milliner’s place, before looking back to her. “I was just set to visit.”

“Oh,” She looked surprised at that, “I expected that you would ignore the letter. No one ever comes back.” She bit her lip briefly before shaking off the surprise, “I was just here to fetch an order I’d placed. You’re welcome to join me.”

“You wouldn’t mind being seen with a ruffian like myself?” I smirked, giving her a teasing look as I followed alongside her to the door.

A flash of a smile, that brought heat to my cheeks crossed her lips, “I’ve been seen with worse,” She offered, thanking me quietly as I opened the door for her. “I’m here to collect my order, E. Charming.”

I cocked a brow at her and was met by a silencing gaze, “Ah,” I said with a hum, adding in a quiet voice. “I’m J. Hook.”

“What do you know,” She grinned, that playful look in her eyes that I’d seen on the balcony, making my heart flutter foolishly.

“Here’s the hat Miss,” The matron sat the box on the counter, taking the bank notes from Miss Swan.

“And what has the lady procured?” I questioned as we made our way back to the door. “Some fine rig to tie to your head?”

“A gift for Miss Lucas,” She laughed with a roll of her eyes, opening the box enough for me to look in. “A fine red hat, it’s her favorite colour.”

“How kind of you,” I tucked my hands behind my back, standing taller as a gentleman passed us, a sneer on his face as he looked at me for a brief moment. “I’m out of my element even here.” I sighed, following her back to the carriage. “Shall I meet you-”

“Get in the carriage,” She said drolly, as the carriage man opened the door for her, helping her inside. I followed her in, flustered by the offer and equally confused. “You’re an unusual woman Miss Swan.”

“And you are an usual man. But you don’t see me complain,” She smirked at me, a challenge in her eyes that brought a smile to my lips. “Do you?”

“No,” I replied, matching her smirk, sitting across from her in the carriage. “Perhaps you’re too much a lady to complain.”

“And are _you_ too much a gentleman to complain? Are you even a gentleman?”

I laughed at that, flashing a smug grin, “I’m _always_ a gentleman, love.” It was easy to be near her, as if the weight of the world and my past had lifted from my shoulders and I could simply forget. But, I couldn’t – especially not now. I had to remind myself in that moment that my revenge was more important than this blond haired lass who was looking at me with a mixture of annoyance and adoration.  

“Always a gentleman, really?” She widened her eyes for emphasis, before turning her gaze to out the window, a smile on her lips, which I noted with far too much interest. “A ruffian gentleman, how unusual.” Her tone was nothing short of mocking, but in a way that it didn’t strike me as an offense.

I scoffed, “You make it sound as if I’m a petty thief.”

“Oh? And you didn’t steal from the gentleman that passed by you?” She tilted her head, pointing to my waistcoat. “I have eyes you know.”

“Eyes you say? I’d have never guessed.” I rolled my own, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the pouch, “ _Observant_.”

Emma smirked at me, a twinkle in her eyes, “I’m watching you Killian Jones or J. Hook, or who ever you might be.”

“I would despair if you didn’t.” I retorted with a grin.

She would be easy to ruin. 


End file.
